Back in the Basement
by BonnieD
Summary: Short vignette. Spike's thoughts. Spoiler for rumor of upcoming plot point.
1. Default Chapter

"Back in the Basement"  
  
PG  
  
Spoiler for rumored up-coming plot.  
  
Spike lay on the pallet Willow had made up for him on the hard, cold floor of the basement, and listened to the clatter and chatter of the household overhead. It was mid-afternoon and he should've been in deep sleep mode, but the overflowing humanity in the Summers' home made for restless napping. He could sense the life flowing through all the corpuscles and veins like a veritable smorgasboard of flavors he couldn't sample. It was frustrating and tension-inducing. Besides which, all the shrill, girlish voices were as annoying as fingernails on a chalkboard. No. There would be no more sleep this afternoon. He may as well get up and see if he could be of any use in training slayerettes.  
  
He sat up, groaning at the creak of bone and ache of muscles, which had yet to completely heal from his ordeal at the hands of the First. Wrapping his arms around his knees, he rested his forehead and contemplated the weird new life he had fallen into. Trainer of slayers! He would never in his darkest nightmares have imagined such a twist. From killer to coach, Spike chuckled at the irony and dragged himself to his feet. His stomach rumbled, ready for blood, and he hoped someone had bothered to pick some up today, since he'd finished the last bag yesterday evening. Probably not. His needs weren't top on the grocery list.  
  
He looked around the dingy basement and wondered if it would be better to move back into Xander's place now that the construction worker had resumed living in his apartment. At least there he'd have a bed. He wondered when he'd become such a wanker that he couldn't even set up his own housekeeping in a crypt somewhere. But he knew the real reason he was kept like a household pet. Buffy was still watching him and with good reason. He himself didn't know if the First had the power to creep back in his head and make him do things, he certainly couldn't expect any of the others to completely trust him.  
  
Well, better to sleep on Buffy's basement floor and be close to her anyway, though the scent and sight of her was driving him to distraction. He pulled on his shoes and a well-used T-shirt, considered that it was time to steal a few new clothes, then headed off upstairs to face the estrogen horde.  
  
A chorus of "Hey Spike" and "How ya doin?" broke over him as he entered the living room. He nodded glumly at the bright-faced teens, then caught sight of Willow, worried frown creasing her brow, bent over her laptop with rapt attention. He slipped into the seat next to her and gave her shoulder a nudge. Never thought he'd see the day when goofy Wicca girl seemed like the elder statesman of the group. The others might not see it, but there was a new gravity and weight about her that came with the acceptance of her power and her sin. He understood that mantle of guilt and responsibility very well now and wished he dared talk to her in more than a surface manner.  
  
"What's up?" he asked, quietly, when she glanced at him.  
  
She shook her head and gazed at the computer screen again. "I'm not sure. Maybe nothing...but, maybe something big. I'm not ready to share 'til I've researched some more."  
  
He nodded and fell silent, watching the lot of girls looking at fashion magazines, plaiting hair, and cleaning weapons, as they gabbled non-stop.  
  
The front door slammed and Dawn entered, shrugging her backpack off and letting it drop on the hall floor. Spike caught a frown passing over her face before she quickly replaced it with a friendly smile, as the slayer wannabes greeted her. Must be tough for the kid, having her home invaded by all these strangers. He was proud of the way she carried on, schoolgirl by day, hostess to the band of Potentials every evening, researching sandwiched in between. He hoped she knew her mum would've been proud of her, too.  
  
Dawn glanced over toward Willow and Spike and her smile was extinguished. 'Plenty of hard feelings there, and with good reason,' the vampire thought, but that didn't make the little twist in his gut at her reaction to him any less painful. Earning trust again was a long, uphill battle. Most days he felt like Sisyphus, pushing a damn rock up that hill only to have it roll back over him and mash him flat into the ground.  
  
Ignoring the girl's expression, he smiled and nodded at her. Willow was too engrossed in her research to even look up. Spike thought the young witch used that computer as a shield to keep her distance from a world she could no longer face. Prophecies and obscure histories were certainly easier to understand than human emotions.  
  
The front door opened again and, for Spike, all the energy in the room coalesced at one point. The light of his life was back in his sight, and his heart rose into his throat. Buffy entered the house arms laden, tripped over the threshold, dropped the case she carried in one hand spilling papers across the floor, scraped her knuckles against the door frame trying to catch them, and succeeded only in losing the grocery bag she had balanced in her other arm. Applause burst out from the Potentials, as apples and canned goods rolled across the floor. Then, amidst good- natured laughter, the girls scurried to help retrieve the lost items.  
  
Spike remained seated enjoying the show. Buffy had enough help, and besides, he didn't want to devolve into a complete ponce, scrambling around on the floor with the lot of them. Even in misery one had to maintain some attitude.  
  
Eventually the Slayer looked up to check on him and Willow, the two psychic invalids, as she did every day, gauging their mental state as if they were fragile porcelain and might shatter at any given moment. It was quite annoying and infinitely touching to see her concern. Made Spike feel like a weakling, which he supposed was accurate, prone as he was to breaking down into a sobbing mess since the whole soul fiasco began. Well, no more. With that Evil no longer invading his brain, it was time for him to be strong again, a support on which Buffy could lean 'stead of the other way round.  
  
When his eyes met hers he gave a big, false smile. 'See? Everything all right here. No worries. Strong like bull.' He rose from the couch, slightly jostling Willow to make her attend to the fact that the Summers' girls had arrived, and headed into the kitchen to see if anyone had remembered to get him a fresh supply of blood. He brushed past Andrew, who had just descended the stairs, and the git jumped back in terror. Too bad his nice, fresh blood was off limits. Surely just a nip now and then wouldn't hurt.  
  
Stomach rumbling, the vampire opened the fridge and peered in.  
  
"Here, Spike. Make yourself useful," Buffy said, coming up behind him and plunking the broken grocery bag on the counter. She tossed him a carton of juice and a gallon of milk, which he placed in the almost empty refrigerator.  
  
"You buy all these, Slayer?" he asked. "Any of those little bints chip in on the groceries?"  
  
Buffy remained silent but the next item she tossed him was a bag of blood, reminding him the Potentials weren't the only ones eating her out of house and home. Point taken - even though a little blood surely didn't cost near as much as the pounds and pounds of food the slayers-in-training put away. As he put the last of the vegetables in the crisper, Spike wondered if there wasn't something he could do about the financial crunch, which only added to Buffy's burden as a Slayer. He'd have to think on that.  
  
"How was your day?" he asked, fishing for a conversational opening.  
  
"Crazy. High school kids are walking neurosises...es.es." She paused and reconsidered. "They're way screwed up! And back in the day, I always thought it was just me."  
  
Spike remembered vividly some of his school day humiliations, memories that were much closer to the surface since 'the change'. It made him simultaneously smile and cringe to think of the complete wanker he'd been. A dreamy, poetic scholar didn't go over well among the hearty, rugby- playing, callous schoolmates it had been his misfortune to endure. He gave a short, harsh laugh.  
  
"Never changes," he answered. "It's always the hunter and the hunted."  
  
Buffy looked at him curiously, then bent down to put the microwave popcorn away, giving him a lovely view of her rounded rear which he took full advantage of. She straightened, turned, and leaned against the counter, arms crossed.  
  
"No. It's not just the strong and the weak, thing. Some of the kids who come in to see me, you would think are the most in-control, well-adjusted, popular kids in the school. But underneath it, they're not. They're all pretty much unhappy one way or the other."  
  
"Doesn't end in high school though, does it?" she added, thoughtfully.  
  
"No," Spike agreed.  
  
"Adults just hide it better I guess," Buffy mused.  
  
"It's all the soul mumbo-jumbo. I was perfectly happy when all I had to do was kill and feed." Spike tried for a teasing tone but ended up sounding bitter.  
  
Buffy frowned at him, shook her head, grabbed a paper grocery sack and began to fold. She looked out the window at the backyard as she spoke again.  
  
"Um, Spike. I'm.....I have something to do.....tonight. Would you take the girls out for training?"  
  
"Whatever you need." He watched the nervous tension in her hands and wondered what this was all about. "You know I won't let anything happen to them."  
  
"I know." Buffy agreed. There was a long silence, broken only by the shrill voices of the permanent slumber party in the other room. Buffy spoke in a rush. "Look. You might as well know. I have a date."  
  
Pause. "Oh," he said neutrally.  
  
"I.....He....The principal at the school. He's a really nice guy. Anyway, he asked and I thought, what the heck. Slayers need a break, too."  
  
"That's good, then." Taking a mug from the cupboard, Spike sliced the bag of blood with his fangs and poured it in.  
  
"It's just one date. Doesn't mean anything." Buffy sounded apologetic.  
  
"You should go." He put the mug in the microwave and hit a button. "Have a nice time. Forget all this for awhile." He gestured vaguely at the other room.  
  
"Yeah." She leaned against the counter again, staring at the closed kitchen door and listening to the shrieks of laughter from the other side. After a moment she tossed her head, breaking her reverie and pushed off the counter. "Well.....thanks."  
  
He nodded.  
  
"I'm gonna go get cleaned up." She left the room and he watched the door swing shut behind her. The microwave timer pinged, and he robotically removed his drink and held it between his hands, warming them. He stared down at the thick red liquid, mesmerized, then he poured it slowly down the drain and carefully rinsed the cup and sink so not a trace was left behind.  
  
He walked back through the living room full of girls and creepy little Andrew to the back hall and the basement door, turned the knob and retreated down the stairs to his proper place in the world.  
  
End 


	2. Buffy's Big Date

Buffy's Big Date  
  
Since this branches off before "The Killer Within", ignore the whole Spike- in-chains and chip trouble that went on in that episode.  
  
  
  
Buffy took another sip of her water as she smiled and nodded at her dinner partner. He was charming, polite, knowledgeable, interesting, and very handsome. So why was her attention wandering and her left leg beginning to jiggle impatiently under the table?  
  
The restaurant was beautiful. Buffy hadn't been anywhere this upscale in a long, long time. She was as uncomfortably self-conscious as if she were wearing army fatigues and had a rifle strapped across her back. The woman was a warrior and this was no longer her environment. Even in her slinky little black dress and tasteful gold necklace, with her hair upswept and face carefully made up, she felt like a sham.  
  
Wistfully she recalled the L.A. days when mommy and daddy would take their little princess out to dine on special occasions.  
  
"....Buffy? Miss Summers?"  
  
"Huh, I....the....what?" She stammered and blushed, trying to recall the last words Principal Woodie had said. And what was his first name again?! Why couldn't she keep it in her head?  
  
"I asked if you've lived in Sunnydale all your life?" he repeated, patiently, brown eyes looking a little concerned at her inattention. 'Am I THAT boring,' he seemed to be thinking, 'or is she that much of a scatterbrain?'  
  
"Oh! No. I moved here when I was in high school. We lived in L.A. before that. Before my mom and dad split...."  
  
"So you've always been in California? It's been like being on permanent vacation for me here. No snow. No gray skies. No rudeness. I don't miss New York!"  
  
Buffy smiled again and struggled to think of something to say. Her conversational skills seemed to have disappeared entirely as the years passed. If the subject wasn't, where do we find and how do we kill, she didn't seem to know what else to discuss. What did regular people talk about on dates? Jobs. Movies. The weather.  
  
"Yes, we do have perfect weather here in SouthernCal," she remarked, inanely. Feeling further inanities about to spew out of her mouth in a torrent, Buffy was grateful that the waiter arrived with their food.  
  
"This looks great," she murmured, sparing Principal Wood from any further observations on the weather.  
  
"So, Buffy, are you enjoying working at the school? How does it feel to be an employee where you used to be a student?"  
  
"Well, actually, since the old school blew up, I wasn't technically ever a student...er...that is at the new Sunnydale. Anyway, I AM enjoying talking to the kids and I don't know if I've thanked you enough yet for lining up the job for me. I mean, without a degree or anything, I can't believe you were able to talk the Board into giving me the position."  
  
"You're welcome," he replied with a slight nod and a smile. "I think it's really helping the students to have someone nearer their age to talk to. You're quite popular with them, you know."  
  
"Sometimes, when I'm listening, I wonder if I'm doing any good at all."  
  
"Sure you are," he cut into his meat and carefully separated it from the bone. "You're doing more good than you know."  
  
Embarrassed, Buffy turned her attention to her own meal, grateful to have her mouth occupied for awhile so she wouldn't put her foot in it and find herself out of a job.  
  
********  
  
As the evening progressed, the Slayer found herself increasingly uneasy about leaving her household unattended for so long. Visions of broken windows and doors, smashed furniture and an empty home, filled her mind. Bringers could have attacked and massacred.... or kidnapped.....everyone by now! She was a fool to think she could go on a date in the middle of this crisis.  
  
Buffy caught herself tapping her spoon lightly against her glass in agitation, and forced herself to put it down and place her hands quietly in her lap. Again, she felt Wood's eyes probing at her.  
  
"Is there something wrong, Buffy?" he finally asked, gently. "Trouble at home or......."  
  
"No......Well, yes. The truth is...." she paused while she decided what version of the truth she could share. "The truth is I'm just - not comfortable. You know, dating an employer. Well, I guess actually the School District is my employer, but......" she trailed off in typical ditsy fashion.  
  
"It's not that I'm not having a nice time," she began again. "You've been great. Really. It's me. I just. Well, I have a lot of responsibilities and no time and I don't know if I should be...."  
  
"It's just dinner," he interrupted, a little coolly. "A date. Not dating."  
  
"Yes, I know. Of course." Her mind begged, 'Can I go home now?' and it almost slipped past her lips as well.  
  
"But if you're not comfortable," he smoothly continued, and motioned for the check.  
  
*********  
  
As she stepped from his car to the sidewalk in front of her home, Buffy breathed an almost palpable sigh of relief. Nothing broken, lights blazing in several of the windows, voices and laughter seeping out into the night, everything seemed to be in order.  
  
He closed the car door behind her and stood with her, regarding the house.  
  
"Sounds like Dawn has friends over," he remarked.  
  
"Yeah. There's always someone coming and going here," she answered truthfully.  
  
Putting out his hand, he took hers and shook it firmly.  
  
"Thanks for coming. I....I'm sorry you felt uncomfortable."  
  
"Oh! No. No really. I didn't mean....."  
  
He held up a hand. "It's okay. See you at school on Monday." He turned to leave then paused. "But, Buffy, if you ever change your mind and want to...go out for coffee or something....just let me know."  
  
Buffy watched the car out of sight before heading up the walk to her front porch. She glanced at the shadows where the porch swing stood half expecting to see the familiar gleam of platinum hair and to smell cigarette smoke wafting up. Since he'd been back, Spike had taken to sitting there, sometimes half the night, just watching. She didn't know if he ever took a puff of the cigarette. It was just something to hold as he kept vigil.  
  
She knew he didn't sleep much and that being indoors, at least at night, made him nervous now. He said it made him feel like a lamb waiting for slaughter, that he wanted to keep his eyes and ears open for whatever was coming.  
  
Personally, it made HER nervous to have him out there, unprotected, while she tried to grab a few hours sleep and ended up tossing and turning in her bed. She was afraid for him but she was also still a little afraid OF him....of what the First might force him to do. But her declaration of trust, "I believe in you", had made it impossible to ask him to submit to a shackled existence in her basement. Nevertheless, Buffy was always attuned to where Spike was and what he was up to.  
  
Tonight he wasn't here. She headed inside the house to be greeted by girls, girls and more girls plus Andrew. She envied Xander and Anya their apartments, which they had retreated to the moment the imminent threat of Uber-Vamp death had dispersed.  
  
Buffy warded off the girls' questions about her "Big Date" and, claiming a headache, went straight to her room. Well, almost straight. There was a quick detour to the kitchen, then out the back door to see if Spike was sitting in his other favorite spot, the back steps. He wasn't.  
  
As she walked upstairs, she passed the new Potential, Schui Chin Lo something or other, and asked how the training had gone. The girl smiled, nodded, said something in Chinese and bowed. Buffy gave up and headed for the bathroom.  
  
"Just a minute!" called a voice (Amanda? Miranda?) and the Chosen One sighed in exasperation. She had one hand on her doorknob when Dawn came puffing up the stairs, laden with two baskets of laundry.  
  
"Hey, Buffy, just a minute! I had to rearrange again and now you have Amanda and Colleen in there with you. It was that or put them down in the basement with Spike!"  
  
(Why don't we just put ME down in the basement with.....) "Um. Okay, Dawn. That's cool," Buffy took one of the laundry baskets from her sister.  
  
"Everyone is supposed to pick up their clothes from the sorting table in the laundry room, but this stuff is yours and mine. I thought I'd better rescue it before they start 'borrowing' again!" Dawn explained.  
  
Buffy laughed and hugged her sister with her free arm. "Have I told you yet how proud I am of the way you're managing the house? I couldn't do it! Slayer training - fine, but keeping everyone fed and clothed and away from each other's throats.....You could have a career in this. Maybe hotel management or something."  
  
"No thank you! I'm getting a house full of servants someday and a nanny for any rugrats I might have. Being the mommy sucks!"  
  
Buffy smiled, squelching any malicious thought about how nice it was for her sister to have the luxury of choosing whether or not to have a family, then started to enter her room again. She paused in the doorway, basket on hip.  
  
"Um, Dawn?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Did any of the girls say how the training went tonight? How was Spike?"  
  
"Fine, I guess." Dawn's face closed down as it always did now at the mention of his name. "Ask him."  
  
"He's here?"  
  
"Basement." She said, shortly, then turned and went into her room.  
  
'Just ask him.' Sure that would be expected. It wouldn't be like she was making a special effort to seem him now would it? Checking in about the girls' training was totally appropriate. Buffy put the laundry basket in a corner of her crowded room, kicked off the heels that were making her legs ache, and quickly checked her makeup and hair in the mirror, refusing to acknowledge the fact that she was primping.  
  
She went back downstairs, avoiding the boisterous gang in the living room, and slipped into the back hall then down the basement stairs. Soft strains of classical guitar met her ears, and Buffy wondered again what stranger had taken over Spike when he got himself that soul. He was seated on his pallet, back propped against the wall, one leg drawn up and a book resting on it. If he wasn't a vampire, he'd be going blind from trying to read in the dim glow of the candles he insisted on using instead of the single, naked electric bulb that hung from the ceiling.  
  
"Hey," she offered, coming over to stand in front of him. "Nice music."  
  
He turned down the volume on the boom box Willow had given him and looked up expectantly.  
  
She leaned against a support post, heedless of the dust and cobweb smears she was probably leaving on her dress, and folded her arms over her chest.  
  
"Good book?" she asked.  
  
He shrugged. "Dylan Thomas. 'S okay. Not my favorite." He lapsed into silence, then gestured awkwardly at the spot next to him. "You could sit?"  
  
"Sure." Buffy dropped down on the pallet and folded her legs under her, conscious of the way her dress was riding up her thigh. She tugged at the hem uselessly, gave up and began picking at a thread on the blanket instead.  
  
"So....how was training tonight?"  
  
"Good, I think." He was suddenly all business. "That Amanda's coming along. She has a real flair with the weapons. Rona's still too tentative, but all the rest are getting right aggressive. They're starting to trust themselves."  
  
Buffy nodded her approval. "Maybe it's time to test them out on more dangerous opponents."  
  
"I could likely scout out a nest of Zagroot to turn 'em loose on, if you think they're ready."  
  
"Yeah. Those things are deceptively weak looking. It'd give 'em a real challenge."  
  
"All right then. I'll see what I can find." There was another long silence broken only by the intricacies of Segovia's guitar picking.  
  
"You're back early," Spike finally spoke.  
  
She shrugged. "It was kinda weird being on a date with my boss. Besides, with the First still a big question mark, I'm not comfortable leaving everyone alone for too long. Made me twitchy."  
  
"You know I'd look after 'em. You should go out and have fun sometimes. Get the bloody world off your shoulders and have a good time."  
  
Buffy just looked at her fingers still picking at the blanket.  
  
"Unless.....You don't trust me yet, do you?" He didn't sound hurt, just curious, so she answered truthfully.  
  
"It's not you. It's what the First might do with you. It has occurred to me that it might creep back into your head again and start playing games."  
  
"True enough." He pursed his lips, thoughtfully. "But I think....I feel....like I would know what was happening this time and be able to stop it. When I was there, in the cave, and it was wearing Dru's face and pushing....pushing at me, trying to make me doubt myself....and you, something seemed to snap into place all of a sudden. The confusion just blew away like clouds and I could see the truth. I don't think it can twist me around anymore."  
  
"Good to know," Buffy answered for lack of anything better to say, but they both knew her eye would still be on him.  
  
"So....." Spike changed the subject, now directing a teasing smile at her. "Apart from feeling 'weird' and 'twitchy', how was your date."  
  
"Don't really want to talk about it," Buffy said. "Nice guy. Nice dinner. End of story."  
  
"Oh, come now. For those of us who have no social life, give us a crumb. Let's have details."  
  
"I'm not discussing this with you," her voice began to raise in that old familiar, bitchy Buffy way, and Spike just had to poke harder. Now that it was pretty clear that her evening out had been a failure, he was more than eager to press the issue.  
  
"Was the guy boring? Rude? Too quiet? Monopolized the conversation? Bad breath? Pretentious? Arrogant? Ignorant? Bad dresser?" he teased. "Tell all, Buffy." He nudged her arm.  
  
She glared at him for a minute and he thought maybe he'd pushed too far, then she shook her head, almost smiling, and leaned back against the wall.  
  
"Turn up the music," she demanded and closed her eyes.  
  
He did as requested, then watched her profile curiously to see if she would say anything else. When she didn't, he too leaned back against the hard cement and listened to the bright strains of music.  
  
"You know," she finally said. "I've become such a social misfit, I can barely carry on a normal conversation. I know next to nothing about world events or even office gossip. I couldn't think of one damn thing to say to the guy."  
  
Spike, prudently, kept silent and waited for more.  
  
"It's like....my mind has revolved around the Hellmouth so long I feel like nothing exists beyond Sunnydale. When I've tried to take classes or leave town for a day trip to L.A., some new crisis always comes up. I can't stand to read or watch the news. It's hard to get worked up about wars or gang violence when you're living on the frontline of the Hellmouth."  
  
She rested her hand on the bed and Spike reached out to cover it with his own, but pulled back at the last minute.  
  
"I think....no more dates for me. Too much anxiety."  
  
They sat quietly side by side listening to the music mingled with thumping and wild shouts of laughter from upstairs.  
  
"Those girls are more destructive than demons. My mom's house will never be the same."  
  
Spike chuckled. "They do go at it."  
  
"Was I ever that young and carefree?"  
  
"Probably not. I bet you've always been uptight. You were probably the little girl with a spotless white pinafore and perfect braids."  
  
Buffy opened one eye and raised a brow. "Pinafore?!"  
  
"Metaphorically speaking. I'm not saying you're a control freak, but....oh, wait, yes I am."  
  
She gave his arm a casual slap.  
  
"You've always got too much to handle, but part of that's 'cause you're always trying to control things beyond your control."  
  
"That's my job. I'm the Slayer!"  
  
"No. Even if you'd never been, I think you'd still be the type to try and keep things clean and tidy and organized and to fix things it's not your business to fix. You're a worrier."  
  
"Am not."  
  
"Are too."  
  
"Am not. And I'm not discussing my character flaws with you!"  
  
Spike laughed. "Well no wonder you can't carry on a conversation. You quit the moment you hear something you don't like!"  
  
Buffy shifted against the wall, eyes closed again, and mumbled, "Do not." to herself.  
  
Unobserved, Spike could enjoy gazing at her shining hair, long lashes, delicious lips and petulant frown. God, what a wonderful bitch she was and how he adored her!  
  
After another long pause, Buffy's eyes suddenly opened and she sat up straight. "Hey, Spike, I can't sit still. Wanna go kill something?"  
  
"Sure. All right. You get changed. I'll get some weapons." Spike stood and reached out a hand to help her to her feet.  
  
Buffy took his hand and fought back the familiar tingle that raced through her from the point of contact. Letting go quickly, she tugged her dress back in place and smoothed out the wrinkles then headed for the stairs.  
  
She was halfway up when he called out softly. "Buffy?"  
  
Turning, she looked down to where he stood at the foot of the stairs.  
  
"In case I didn't mention it earlier.....you are beautiful."  
  
Their gazes locked for just a heartbeat, and Buffy could read volumes more in his eyes. Sonnets. Couplets. Haikus. Limericks of meaning were there. She smiled, almost shyly.  
  
"Thank you," she replied quietly, then turned and sped upstairs to get ready for her date.  
  
  
  
End 


	3. And Later That Evening

And Later That Evening.......  
  
Buffy rolled to her side again, tugging irritably at the blanket, which had twisted around her. She stared out the window, wide-eyed and sleepless. Looking at the glowing red numbers of her bedside clock, she watched 3:35 change to 36....37.... Finally, with an impatient growl, she sat up and tossed the covers off. She stepped out of bed, careful to avoid the sleeping bundles of shadow on the floor, and crept out of her room.  
  
Down in the kitchen, she stared listlessly at the contents of the fridge. Not hungry. Not remotely hungry. She had had a second dinner when she and Spike came home from their very successful evening. A group of six vamps and a very large, spiny demon that even Spike didn't recognize had met their demise at the hands of the Slayer and her....whatever he was to her. The fighting had left them both pumped up and ravenous. Back home in the Summers' kitchen, Buffy had finished off the rest of a pan of lasagna, and Spike had gulped down two bags of blood, then they had said goodnight and parted to clean up and go to bed.  
  
That was almost two hours ago. Now Buffy found herself pacing the silent kitchen and fighting urges more powerful than the hunger for food. She found her feet carrying her to the door that led to the basement, and stood there with her hand on the knob for a full five minutes. She wondered if it was just her or if Spike were having trouble sleeping, too.  
  
*******  
  
Laying on the thin mattress, which was little better than sleeping on the sarcophagus in his old crypt, Spike listened to the Slayer's footsteps as she walked around the kitchen above him. He would recognize her light tread anywhere. Seemed she was as restless as he was tonight. Although he had tried to adjust to human hours of wake and sleep, it wasn't natural for him to be laying down this time of night.  
  
Usually he would've prowled around outside the house or sat motionless on the front porch, watching for predators, but tonight he had gone to his pallet. He lay there reviewing every word and gesture Buffy had shared with him that evening, absently stroking himself, while watching the sliver of moonlight move slowly across the floor. True memories had evolved into elaborate fantasies and an increased pace with his hand by the time he heard her enter the kitchen. He froze and let go of himself as if caught in the act, then tuned his senses into Buffy until he could almost hear the faint echo of her heartbeat right through the floor.  
  
Now she had paused at the door leading down to the basement. There was silence for a full five minutes as she hesitated, and Spike's breath caught. He knew his heart would be thudding right out of his chest if it could. He waited....and hoped.  
  
********** Desire and reason battled back and forth in the Slayer's mind. Her thoughts battled through already well-covered territory. All the reasons she shouldn't, couldn't, mustn't, both for his sake and hers, were resurrected and recounted and reconsidered.....then rejected. "I'm just going to see if he needs anything," she lamely explained to her rational mind as she allowed her hand to turn the knob.  
  
*********  
  
Spike was almost in a panic when he heard the door creak open and Buffy's barefoot tread on the stairs. Should he pretend to be asleep or acknowledge her presence? What did she expect? What did she want him to do?  
  
He closed his eyes, listened to her coming closer, changed his mind, and let them flutter open. He caught a glimpse of her, clad in flannel pajama bottoms and a cunning little tank top, then decided to play possum after all and shut his eyes tight again.  
  
"Spike?" she whispered. He remained silent. She shifted her weight back and forth from foot to foot and shivered slightly, then coughed discreetly. He waited.  
  
"Spike, I know you're awake," she barely breathed the words.  
  
He gave up the pretense and propped himself on one arm, regarding her quizzically.  
  
"You need something?" he asked, softly.  
  
She shrugged and didn't reply, but he could hear her pulse pounding as clearly as if it were his own, and could imagine the furious blush that was spreading across her face and neck. He decided to make it easy for her, even if he might be opening the door to another big, bad case of heartache.  
  
"Wanna talk?" He pulled the blanket and the Hollie Hobbie comforter, which Dawn had generously added to his nest, open for Buffy to lay next to him. Without a word she dropped down and allowed him to pull the covers around her. His arm casually stayed there after tucking them in, and he remained leaning on an elbow looking down into her face. She was embarrassed by his gaze but appreciated the weight of his arm resting across her.  
  
"Couldn't sleep," she finally mumbled. " I know I should be exhausted. It was a big evening and I have an even bigger day of work tomorrow at my other job, but......"  
  
He nodded. "I'm not tired either." They listened to a cricket chirping madly away in a dusty corner of the basement.  
  
He lay back down, wedging his other arm awkwardly between them and resting his head on the pillow beside hers. It was close enough that if he'd been breathing, it would've tickled her ear.  
  
After a minute he spoke. "I've been thinking about that."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Working," he explained. "You, working at the school and the Doublemeat. It's too much."  
  
"No kidding." The idea of another long Saturday drenched in grease made her feel physically weak with dread.  
  
"I can help. I already asked around." The vibrating murmur of his voice was distracting her from the sense of his words. "Bartending."  
  
"You?" she asked, dazedly, still concentrating on the little puffs of air blowing against the side of her neck.  
  
"A little dive on the edge of town. Human bar. Cash only." He nestled a little closer until his lips practically touched her ear. "I won't make much, but..."  
  
"Spike that's...." What was she trying to say? Generous? Helpful? Crazy? Didn't matter. All she was thinking was 'hot'! Hungry! Sexy! Touch me!!!  
  
"Um....that's g-great," she stuttered.  
  
"You should get that little wanker, Andrew, to get a job, too." He pulled back and his voice lost its seductive tone and took on an edge of annoyance. "What the hell is he still doing, lurking about here?"  
  
"I'd rather have him underfoot than running amok all over Sunnydale getting into God knows what sort of trouble."  
  
Spike couldn't help but note the obvious parallel to his own case, and he shut right up and nuzzled back into the side of Buffy's neck.  
  
"Um, luv? Could I....move my arm a bit? It's sort of uncomfortable."  
  
They each shifted, and suddenly both his arms were around her, pulling her in tight against his body.  
  
"This is wrong....so wrong," she idly thought, as she pressed into him like a bird seeking shelter.  
  
"That's better," he murmured against the top of her head and pressed his lips against her hair. "Comfortable?"  
  
"Mm-hm." She sighed, contentedly. "'s nice."  
  
'It's all I ever wanted,' Spike thought, remembering all the nights of shag him and leave him.  
  
"Just rest, pet," is what he said. He kissed her head again, then began gently stroking up and down her arm with one hand. Of course, the scent and feel of her body had given him an instant raging hard on, which he tried to ignore and hoped she would, too. There was no doubt she could feel it pressed against her hip, but he'd be damned if he'd let his hormones ruin this perfect moment. He didn't know how she could stand to let him touch her after what he'd done before he left, but he certainly wasn't going to question it.  
  
The whole essence of existence distilled down to this simple act: man- woman, touch-comfort. It was absofuckinglutely perfect. Spike closed his eyes and just breathed in Buffysmell.  
  
******** She was all too aware of Spike's desire for her and the fact that he was nuzzling the top of her head and that it was wrong, wrong, wrong for her to be here, but Buffy was beyond caring what was right. And even though she might hurt him or herself in the long run, right now this was so what she needed.  
  
Tired of examining feelings and motives and consequences, she just wanted to be held like a little girlie-Slayer, and Spike was a master of cuddling. The sexual tension was banked down for the night, though both were well aware of its presence, and they relaxed in a shared embrace, as the moon continued its path across the floor of the basement.  
  
End 


	4. Another Night

Another Night by BonnieD (Spoilers through early Season 7)  
  
(Remember this series branched off from canon awhile ago, so in my world Principal Wood is not a Slayer's son, just a guy, and Willow, never-ever- ever kissed Kennedy and had a meltdown, cause she's not ready for a new relationship yet and if she was it wouldn't be with that chick!)  
  
The bartender poured another round of shots for the rowdy group at the corner table. Their waitress picked up the laden tray, rolling her eyes at the raucous burst of laughter from her customers.  
  
"You better tell these apes it's last call, 'cause they're not listenin' to me. You may have to physically pitch'em out at closing, which is in about....." she consulted her watch, "10 minutes. I am not stayin' late. I know these assholes are gonna stiff me, anyway."  
  
"I'll take care of it," he assured her, wiping the spills off the counter with a well-used rag.  
  
The movement of the front door caught his eye, and he froze as a petite blond entered the room, scanning the last stragglers warily, then catching sight of him. She almost smiled and made her way over to the bar.  
  
"What'll it be?" he asked, an amused smirk twitching the corners of his mouth. "Warm milk? Maybe some grape juice?"  
  
She perched on a stool and pursed her lips in annoyance. "A beer. Whatever's on tap."  
  
"Can I see some I.D.?" he demanded, arms folded across his chest. "Little girl like you shouldn't be out so late on a school night and especially not bar-hopping."  
  
"Very funny. Shut up and beer me, Spike." She rotated her stool away from him, and regarded the rest of the customers. "Aren't you supposed to close at 2:00?"  
  
He put a frothy mug down in front of her. "Yeah, but it takes awhile to clear'em out sometimes."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Why? You need help with something?"  
  
"I just thought, maybe we could get in a little late night patrol...you know, on your way home. It's been awhile since we did a sweep through Shadyrest."  
  
"Right. That'd be good. I could use a workout after being holed up in here all night." He began rinsing glasses.  
  
"Customer service jobs, the foundation of the American economy," Buffy mused, trying to find a difference between serving booze, burgers or a listening ear to high school students.  
  
"Good tips, anyway. Thursday's Ladies' Night," Spike explained.  
  
"Is that so? Bet you had'em lined up three deep at the bar," she teased.  
  
He looked up at her from under half-lidded eyes and let that slight smirk blossom into a full-fledged saucy leer. It was damn good to see a glimpse of the old Spike with his endearingly annoying ways, Buffy thought. She had missed him.  
  
It was two weeks since the night she had crept down to see him - face it, to lay with him - in the dead of night. It had not been repeated and neither of them mentioned it again. Still, it hung in the air between them and couldn't be dismissed only temporarily ignored. So the incident was shelved. Meanwhile, the game with the First also seemed to be on hold. The lack of activity was ominous, making everybody twitchy, and the atmosphere in the Slayer Hotel tense.  
  
Spike suddenly straightened and bellowed, "All right then, closing time. Everybody drink up and get out."  
  
"Great people skills there, Spike."  
  
The guys at the corner table grumbled that it was still five to two and they, by-god, weren't going anywhere. The bartender stalked over and stared them down, and it looked like a fight was imminent.  
  
"I said it's time to pack it in and shove off...." his voice dropped to a menacing purr and his short stature seemed to swell to an imposing height. "...mate." He addressed the burly leader of the group, who rose shakily to his feet.  
  
Swaying slightly, the man considered his opponent's piercing blue stare, glanced at his wasted buddies who didn't look like they could totter home let alone hold their own in a bar fight, then shrugged.  
  
"Fine. Whatever, man. Just don't expect to see us in here again. Come on, guys."  
  
They all began shuffling out, still grumbling.  
  
"Tip," Spike barked.  
  
"'Scuse me?" slurred the leader, gaping at him blearily.  
  
"The lady's tip," he demanded, taking a step closer.  
  
"Fuck you," exclaimed one of the inebriated cronies. In an instant he found his face smashed into one of the tabletops and his arm drawn painfully halfway up his back. "Ow! Fuck! Damn!" he howled, as Spike twisted.  
  
"Jesus," one of the others breathed, instantly sober. He hadn't even seen the bartender move. Collectively, they all began rummaging in their wallets and extracting bills. The waitress, Tonya, moved smoothly among them, calmly plucking cash from their hands. The men silently filed out, while Tonya contentedly counted her tips, and Spike began wiping down tables. Watching the scene play out, part of Buffy clamored that this little piece of extortion was ethically wrong, but the Doublemeat Palace employee in her, who had had to suffer the rudeness of dozens of customers, applauded him.  
  
Minutes later, the lights were shut off and Spike was locking up behind them as they walked into a cool, star-filled Sunnydale night.  
  
"See you tomorrow," Tonya called, "and thanks for the tip."  
  
"I'm not on again 'til Saturday," Spike responded. "Take care walking home," he added.  
  
"Maybe we should follow her," Buffy said, watching the slight figure in the molting rabbit-fur coat make her way down the street.  
  
Spike nodded, and the pair shadowed his co-worker to her apartment three blocks away. After watching her walk up the steps and enter the building, they continued on down the street.  
  
"Seems like a nice girl," Buffy remarked.  
  
"She's okay," he answered.  
  
"You like your job?"  
  
"It's all right. Brings home the blood, anyway."  
  
Buffy smiled, thinking of the wad of cash she had just 'happened' to find in an envelope on her bureau about a week after Spike had begun his new job. It was enough to pay the phone bill and part of the cable for that month.  
  
She glanced over at her companion, who had his hands jammed in his pockets and was humming softly and somewhat nervously, as they walked along.  
  
The low brick wall of Shadyrest Cemetery was on their left as they entered the next block. Instead of going all the way around to the front gate, the pair scaled the wall and dropped down onto the soft grass inside.  
  
"Damn!" Buffy jumped to her feet and began brushing at the knees of her slacks. "There's going to be grass stains."  
  
Spike shook his head and rolled his eyes. He'd heard her complain about damage to her clothes since the first time they'd ever patrolled together, back when he still hated her guts and had to be paid to help. "Luv, I've told you before....basic black. There's a reason it's a classic. Hides all manner of blood and guts AND grass stains."  
  
"And if I wanted to be a goth princess or a ninja, that's what I'd wear. There's no reason a girl can't be a Slayer and have fashion sense!"  
  
They walked along, side by side, scanning the empty graveyard for any signs of life or unlife, but all they saw were the moonlit slabs of granite and a stray cat ghosting along after its prey.  
  
"Hm. Nothing," Buffy said after awhile. "Should've gone through Sunnydale Memorial again, it's always hopping." She made her way to a low, stone bench, shrugged the bag off her shoulder and began to rummage through it. Spike leaned against a monument topped by a stone angel and watched. After a minute she produced a thermos, a pair of plastic Looney Tune cups from MacDonald's, and a bag of.....Combos? She proceeded to pour an unidentified red liquid, which definitely wasn't blood, into the two cups.  
  
Spike continued to watch in disbelief as she set up the impromptu picnic.  
  
"Slayer, is this.....is this a date?"  
  
Buffy glanced up. "No! No. Of course not. It's...........Do you want it to be?" She grinned mischievously as she reflected his own words from so long ago back at him.  
  
Spike opened his mouth and nothing came out. He was beyond words, so he settled for a huge, hearty laugh.  
  
******* Willow sat on the front porch swing of Chez Summers and listened to the rustle of the breeze blowing through the huge tree in the front yard. She smelled the hint of rain on the air that told her a storm was coming. She tuned in to all the small sounds, both natural and manmade of the neighborhood around her and the rest of Sunnydale beyond that, and the earth connecting it all together. She began to enter a meditative state as she had been taught by the coven in England, and for the first time all day, felt a modicum of peace.  
  
This was the kind of magic that Tara was all about. Willow hadn't understood the attraction of such simple techniques and non-flashy results at the time, but now she understood the incredible power - GOOD power - of Wiccan magic.  
  
The front door banged shut behind Dawn, breaking her trance.  
  
"Hey. Thought I'd find you out here." Dawn dropped down beside her and set the swing moving with the heels of her feet. "I had to get out of there for awhile. That Colleen is so bossy! She seems to think I'm the guest in HER house! And it's not just me, she's trying to be cruise director for everybody." She looked at Willow. "How much longer? I wish the First would just start whatever it's going to do already. 'Cause I can't take it much more."  
  
"I hear you." Willow thought of that girl, Kennedy, who was constantly coming on to her. She'd been making eyes and comments since Day One and Willow was just about sick of it. How could she make it any more obvious that she wasn't interested. Not now. Not ever.  
  
"Is it really wicked of me to almost hope that if there are any more Potentials out there, the Bringers find them before the coven does?" Dawn's eyes widened and she slapped a hand over her mouth. "I can't believe I just said that! That's not funny."  
  
"Don't worry. You're not the only one who's tense and irritable. The whole house is about to burst at the seams."  
  
"You know what we need?" Dawn said. "Or, actually, who. We need Tara. She was so great with people, you know." She darted a glance at Willow to gauge her reaction. The redhead froze for a moment, gazing out across the lawn, then slowly smiled.  
  
"I-I think...." Dawn continued, nervously. "I mean, no one ever talks about her, and she was so great, and I miss her so much, and everyone else thinks it'll upset you too much or something, but I think there's stuff that needs to be said!"  
  
Willow looked straight into Dawn's earnest face.  
  
"Ever since you came back from England, it's been one crisis after another. We've been too busy to just talk. I don't know. Maybe you and Buffy have chats I know nothing about, but...as far as I can see it's been the usual Scoobie drill - fight evil, make quips and don't dig too deep into what anyone is really thinking."  
  
"We do have some communication issues," the witch agreed. "So, what do you want to say, Dawn? Talk to me." She patted the girl's hand. Dawn took a deep breath and carried on.  
  
"Well...I've wanted to tell you, for a long time, that I not only forgive you - for trying to kill me and all - but I get it." She looked deeply into Willow's eyes. "I don't think anyone ever told you, 'cause they were all trying to act like it never happened, but I was the one who found Tara after you left that day." Dawn closed her eyes a moment, remembering. "All of you were at the hospital when I came home and then....and then I found her. I was terrified. I was furious. I could see right away there was no use calling for help. It was too late. And I didn't want to leave her alone, not even for a minute. So I just sat there and waited for someone to come. It was like mom all over again, only this time it was me, not Buffy, who found her.  
  
I remember, her hair had fallen in her eyes and they were wide open, staring at me. I wanted to brush the hair away. But, even though it was Tara, I was afraid to touch her." Dawn's voice began to crumble and Willow held the girl's hand between both of her own. "Is it bad that I was afraid to touch her?"  
  
"No. No, Dawnie. It's all right. It's all right," Willow soothed, stroking her gently.  
  
"I was so scared," Dawn whispered. "And later, after I found out what had happened, so angry." Her voice became like steel. "I would've done it."  
  
She opened her eyes and fixed her gaze on Willow again. "I was glad you did it....to him. Buffy said, 'No, you don't mean that' but I did. I did. If I'd had that kind of power, I would've been happy to flay him myself."  
  
Willow's mouth opened in protest, but Dawn pulled her hand away and held it up in a warding gesture.  
  
"No! No more telling me what I felt and what I meant. Just listen."  
  
The young woman nodded.  
  
"Tara was like a mother to me all last year. She spent time with me and listened to me when Buffy didn't.....or couldn't. I think you should know, you're not the only one who loves her and misses her. And even when you came after me and I was scared to death and mad as hell, I still understood. Some part of me always understood. So....." Dawn let out a long shaky breath. "Well, this got a lot deeper than I expected. I just came out to say 'hello', but anyway, here's the point. Black magic rampage? Forgiven and understood."  
  
"Oh, Dawn." Willow burst into tears and hugged the gangly teen to her. She sobbed for the sweetness of this girl who could forgive her after she'd threatened her life. She sobbed for Warren and Rack, whose lives she'd stolen, even if they were both rotten bastards. But mostly she sobbed for herself, missing Tara every moment of every day and not feeling the pain diminishing at all. For Tara herself she knew she didn't need to cry, because her beloved was now a part of the earth and the sky and all of nature - just as she had always been but on a more intrinsic level.  
  
*******  
  
Buffy poured another cupful of the very cheap, very sweet wine from her thermos, which was doing an admirable job of keeping it cold. She regarded the deep red liquid and swirled it around once before taking a long swig. She smacked her lips in approval.  
  
"Ah! Better than beer," she critiqued. "Sweet."  
  
"Yeah." Spike eyed his almost full, first cup, doubtfully. "It has a delightful, rather piquant bouquet. Chateau Boone's Farm?" He took a tiny sip, grimaced, and poured the thing out in the grass when Buffy wasn't looking.  
  
Ripping open the brightly colored bag, she held it out to him. "Combo?" she asked.  
  
He took a couple and tossed them back with a satisfying crunch. What he wouldn't give for a nice blood chaser about now to wash the crumbs down.  
  
Buffy was obviously feeling the effects of one beer mixed with two glasses of cheap wine, because she was starting to throw the salty snacks up in the air and try to catch them in her mouth.  
  
"Try it," she mumbled through a mouthful. "It's fun."  
  
Since his reputation as Big Bad was long past and his ego totally shattered and stomped flat by that damn soul, Spike figured, what the hell, and was soon flipping and catching Combos.  
  
"Whoops!" Buffy laughed as she missed a catch and one of the pretzel snacks fell down the front of her shirt. She fished around in her bra for it, while Spike paused his game to watch with interest. She looked up to catch him staring and in an instant the mood of the evening changed from sunny to stormy.  
  
Buffy froze with the Combo halfway to her mouth and swallowed hard. The alcoholic fuzz cleared from her brain but burned in her crotch. She felt a slow fire build there and spread throughout her whole body, leaving it tingling with desire. Spike stood up from the bench so suddenly that he tripped over his own foot and staggered for a second, getting his balance.  
  
"Maybe we should...." he gestured vaguely toward home.  
  
"What's your hurry?" Buffy asked, a seductive edge creeping into her voice.  
  
"Are you drunk?" He frowned. "I think you're drunk." 'And you're scaring the hell out of me' his brain added.  
  
"Just a little," she answered honestly. "But not TOO drunk. I know what I'm doing. I know what I want." She rose from the bench.  
  
"This is a spell," Spike decided.  
  
"Nuh-uh." Buffy shook her head and moved a step closer, and Spike truly understood how his victims had felt when he stalked them. "Just thinking about the other night and how it was nice and I want more."  
  
She gazed up at him, searching his eyes, then stopped, suddenly embarrassed by the words that had escaped from her brain to her mouth. "I....well, maybe I am more than a little drunk," she faltered, dropping her eyes.  
  
Spike reached out a tentative hand and touched the side of her face with just his fingertips, then let his palm rest there his thumb stroking toward her mouth. Her lips parted softly, as he traced their contour, and her breathing grew erratic. Eyes wide, she turned her face up and stretched her body yearningly toward him. He couldn't turn down the invitation and leaned in to accept his kiss.  
  
It was a world away from the aggressively consuming kisses they had shared for that brief time over a year before. Buffy wasn't angry and punishing. Spike wasn't starved and needy. Well, all right, perhaps he was, he thought, but still the flavor of this kiss was entirely different - light and delicate, almost chaste.  
  
Getting less chaste by the second now as they moved from brushing of lips to darting of tongues and their hands began to roam. He cradled the back of her head with one hand while the other slipped around her waist and lightly kneaded her lower back. She rested one palm against his chest and allowed the other to creep down his hip and around to cup his butt, pulling him more firmly against her. Little vixen!  
  
Spike felt his demon come howling to just below the surface, railing at him to suck her dry. He wanted her in every way imaginable; emotional, romantic, sexual and predatory. And, whoah, what happened to that chaste kiss? Their tongues were dueling, then he was kissing his way down to her neck, and she was wrapping her legs around him as he lifted her up, and he had a handful of her hair wrapped around his fist, and her nails were digging into his arm, and the hand at his chest was ripping at his shirt to get inside, and....  
  
Spike set her down - practically flung her off, and backed hurriedly away. Buffy was panting and wide-eyed. She wiped the back of a hand across her glistening lips. He threw his head back and looked up to the sky, taking a long, cleansing breath. Walking to the monument, he turned his back to her and leaned against it while he regained composure.  
  
"Sorry," he whispered, head bowed.  
  
"No. It wasn't you," Buffy assured him, coming up behind him and lightly touching his arm. "I want you, too. I think we've pretty much established that."  
  
He sidestepped her touch and went to the bench where he began haphazardly stuffing things back into her bag.  
  
"We'd better go," he muttered, still refusing to meet her eyes.  
  
Buffy was completely sober now, and alarmed at the change in Spike's demeanor. Wasn't she the one who had once been nearly raped and should be panicking at his touch? How had their roles somehow reversed?  
  
"It's all right, Spike," she tried again. "We can take it slower...."  
  
"No. I don't think we can," he answered. "That's our trouble." He smiled slightly. "Was a nice try though. Thanks for the picnic." He shouldered the bag and strode off through the cemetery. Buffy had no choice but to trail behind, wondering how she could fix things and why the burden was on her to make it better.  
  
"Hey!" she called. "Wait up." She jogged up beside him and they walked along together in silence again.  
  
"You know," she began. "It's okay to get a little passionate. We're two grown people and....."  
  
"WE are not people. You're a person and I'm a - a thing, remember? This," he made an inclusive gesture between them, "can not start up again. I should've sent you away, when you came to me the other night. It's not healthy. It's not right. I can help you fight things and protect the girls, but that's all I can do for you."  
  
Buffy nodded slowly. "Okay. No touchy. I got it. You're probably right."  
  
"I know I'm right," he replied.  
  
"When did you get to be so sensible?" she sulked, kicking at the grass.  
  
"Side effect of the soul I reckon."  
  
"Well, it sucks."  
  
They walked on toward the front gate of the graveyard. When they reached it, Spike paused with one hand on the ornate wrought iron and turned to face the Slayer.  
  
"Look, Buffy. You know I want you more than anything in the world, right? It's not easy for me to turn you down."  
  
"I know," she agreed quietly.  
  
"But I can't be with you just for some sexual workout. It means too much to me and not enough to you and we'll end up tearing at each other again when we need to work together. We're facing the oldest form of Evil in the world. There's no time to indulge in our pathetic excuse for a love life."  
  
Buffy frowned. "You sound like Giles! And, of course, you're right." She sighed as he held the gate open for her and the both passed through. "Why can't I have something that's just for me? Just for one minute do something I feel like without thinking about all the repercussions."  
  
"Chosen One," Spike said simply.  
  
As they drew closer to the Summers' house, Buffy stopped on the sidewalk and touched his arm again. He looked down at her, head tilted questioningly.  
  
"Maybe someday, Spike," she said. "When this latest test is past, assuming we survive it, and we're between apocalyptic threats. Maybe then.....we can take out this whatever-it-is between us and have a good look at it?"  
  
He gave her a single nod and a smile so sweet it took her breath away. "That'd be good."  
  
She smiled back and led the way up the walk to the front porch of her home, where Willow and Dawn greeted them from the swing. After 3:00 on a school night and Dawn was still up? Buffy didn't even bother to protest. The house was in such an uproar at all hours it was amazing anyone slept at all, and, despite the home pressures, her brain of a sister managed to keep a straight A/B average.  
  
The Slayer curled up in a wicker chair facing her sister and best friend. Spike perched on the porch railing and pulled out a cigarette that she knew he'd never light. The four sat companionably in silence and listened to the sounds of the night.  
  
END 


	5. Sir Xander and the Quest for the Holy Gr...

Sir Xander and the Quest for the Holy Grrrail of Love by BonnieD  
  
Can be a chapter of "Back in the Basement" or a stand-alone. (Remember, my series branches off before Buffy's date, so Xander never had a demon date with Ashanti.)  
  
It was Saturday night, traditional date night, and Alexander Harris was surrounded by lovely young women. It had always been so. After all, his best friends were two beautiful ladies. It was his blessing and curse to be constantly immersed in an estrogen haze.  
  
So yes, pretty girls all around and totally off limits to him. Most of 'em were too young and all of them were too dedicated to saving the world from ultimate Evil. Again he asked himself why he hadn't gone to the bar with his work friends instead of coming to video night at the Summers' home, where he was subjected to a carload of chattering Potentials and Andrew shushing them 'cause he couldn't hear the dialog.  
  
"Sh! Shhhh! The best line is coming up..... 'At my signal, unleash hell!'" Andrew quoted along with Russell Crowe.  
  
Xander had to fight the urge to chime in. It pained him to realize how similar his tastes were to the former member of the Nerd Troika. Andrew was a guy he would've hung out with in high school! Xander grimaced at the thought and grabbed another handful of popcorn. They were scraping the bottom of the bowl already and the movie had barely started.  
  
"Look at that!" one of the girls exclaimed. "How totally fake! There's no way he could DO that."  
  
"Yeah. And look at that one guy swinging his axe. That's not how you hold it! What a girly-man," another chimed in.  
  
"Like you'd know! You haven't even fought a real demon yet, only sparred with Spike, which doesn't count. I, on the other hand....."  
  
Xander sighed. It was going to be a long, long, extra long, almost-three- hour movie. This was only the opening battle. Just wait 'til they started picking apart the hand-to-hand combat in the gladiator scenes or, god forbid, choosing favorite dresses in the empress's wardrobe.  
  
"I'll go make more popcorn," he announced to deaf ears, then scooped up the bowl and headed for the kitchen.  
  
Willow and Anya were seated at the table, arguing about the components of a strength reducing spell. Again, he was ignored, as he went to the cupboard and pulled out another bag of microwave popcorn.  
  
"It's not going to do any good if we can't disperse it over a wide area. There may be a whole battlefield worth of enemies we need to zap," Willow was explaining.  
  
"And I'm telling you that you're running the risk of diluting the power and longevity of the charm by substituting ingredients!"  
  
"I think I've been doing magic long enough to know how to channel the energies in different ways."  
  
"You've been doing magic, serious magic, for, what, about three or four years at most? I'm almost a thousand years old! You think I don't know what I'm talking about?" Anya's voice was taking on that almost hysterical shrillness she achieved when you questioned her authority. Xander well remembered that tone. He had all too often countered it with a certain patronizing 'you're newly human and don't know our ways' tone of his own. He had hated it when he heard himself talking that way, but by the end he and Anya had fallen into such a deeply ingrained pattern they couldn't seem to shake it.  
  
Lucky man. Don't have to get involved in this argument. Just make the popcorn and get out quick.  
  
"Xa-aander!" Came the familiar whine. "Tell her what I told you about the time I helped that sorcerer curse the village in Romania. You know, back in 1635, or was it '36? I'm sure I told you about it. A village! A whole village! And I didn't once use my demon powers. It was an experiment. I wanted to see how ordinary witchcraft worked, and let me tell you, it worked damn well. So I think I know a little something about casting a wide-net spell!"  
  
"Xander?" Willow cast him an appealing eye. "Help me out here."  
  
"Look," he paused and took a deep breath to untie the knots in his gut their sparring always caused. He played for time by tossing the bag into the microwave and pressing buttons. When he turned around they were still both staring at him expectantly. "Look," he began again. "Why don't you call the coven in England and ask their opinion? Those ladies' know all the ins and outs, right?"  
  
"You think I can't figure this out on my own?"  
  
"You think a bunch of mortals know better than me?"  
  
They spoke in stereo and Xander held up his hands in a warding gesture. "Whoa! Whoa! I'm just the popcorn-maker here. The window and wall fixer. The clean up guy. You two figure out what you need to do and leave me out of it!" He deliberately turned his back on their continued clamoring and watched the bag of popcorn puff up through the little glass door.  
  
Sometimes when he walked into a room and saw Anya a bolt of burning desire skewered him, other times a stab of pain for the loss of her sweet warmth in his bed at night, but at times like these he felt a guilty pang of relief that he wouldn't have to hear her rant later on about all Willow's shortcomings. His apartment was silent, Anya-free, and lonely, but though he wanted a woman in it, someone to share his life with, he was no longer very sure that Anya was that woman.  
  
In the time-honored tradition of the male of the species, Xander tuned out the bickering and concentrated on food. He ripped open the bag, refilled the popcorn bowl, and slipped out of the kitchen.  
  
"Russell is SO not cuter than Keanu! Or a better fighter! Keanu could kick his ass!" Andrew was screaming at either Melissa or Melinda.  
  
"Russell is a MAN. Keanu's just a bad-acting, surfer dude BOY!" the girl shouted back. "And 'The Matrix' SUCKS! It has no heart, just a bunch of flashy special effects."  
  
"You take that back!" Andrew launched himself off the couch and Kennedy intercepted him and tossed him back in his seat.  
  
"Chill, you two. Just watch the movie. Jeez!"  
  
Xander quietly set the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table, walked to the front hall and took his coat from the closet.  
  
****************  
  
Xander stepped into the smoky bar and scanned the crowd for his friends, Steve, Mike and Jerry, and found them camped out in front of the biggest screen they could find, as he'd known they would be. He stopped a passing waitress and ordered a brew then pulled an extra chair up to the table.  
  
"What's the score?" he asked, watching the teams clash without a clue as to who was playing. Sports was never on his agenda.  
  
"Hey! Harris!!!" the men greeted him, Jerry reaching out and giving him a high-five. "You made it, man."  
  
"Yeah. The other thing kinda fell through."  
  
"2nd quarter and my team is down," Steve filled him in. "Jackson can't make a basket to save his life. I'm gonna lose my ass tonight!"  
  
"If you were my kid you'd be out on the street," Mike, the oldest member of the group told him. "Sponging off your folks and blowing your whole damn paycheck every weekend. What a fucking loser." He spoke without venom, though, and Steve pretty much ignored the old guy.  
  
Jerry motioned a waitress over. "Whaddya want, boss?" he asked Xander.  
  
"That's okay. I already ordered." The waitress turned and threaded her way through the crowded room and Steve wolf-whistled at her ass.  
  
"Ai, Chihuahua. Wouldja look at that. Man, this place is crawling with hot chicks tonight!" His leg jiggled nervously and his head bobbed around as he looked over the pickings. Xander decided he was probably high on something more than beer and made a mental note to keep an eye on the guy at the worksite.  
  
"Chrissakes, Britton, grow up!" growled Mike.  
  
"Shut up, grandpaw," Steve responded. "Just cause you're so damn old it'd take a whole bottle of Viagara to get your motor running....."  
  
The older man snorted. "I'm not the one with no woman. Maybe if you showed a little respect to the ladies you wouldn't have to keep your dick in your drawers all the time."  
  
Jerry laughed and Steve turned disgustedly back to watching the game.  
  
"So," Jerry leaned in confidentially toward Xander. "Girl stood you up?"  
  
"It wasn't that kind of date, just some friends getting together, but I felt like going out."  
  
"Sure. Sure. Look, I got a sister. You should meet her. She's a real nice girl and believe me I wouldn't line her up with just anybody, but I think you're a real straight up guy."  
  
"Yeah. That's.....Maybe you could give me her number." Xander studied Jerry's earnest and butt-ugly face and thought the chances of his sister being even mildly attractive were pretty thin, but he took the scribbled napkin that his friend passed him.  
  
"No, man." Steve jumped into the conversation. "Believe me, you don't want to go there. Not saying Holly's not a nice girl," he intercepted Jerry before he could protest. "But, Harris, you don't want a nice girl. You wanna get laid! Look around you. It's a big crowd. There's got to be somebody who'll take you home tonight and fix you up."  
  
"Why the fuck is he sitting with us?" Mike glared at Steve. "Can someone tell me why we let this asshole hang around?"  
  
"Come on, Big Mike. You were twenty-something once. Or can't you remember it? This is what we're supposed to do. This is the time of our lives. Sowing wild oats and living for the moment."  
  
Xander could see the sense in that. You ARE only young once. Trouble was he didn't feel young. Hadn't felt young for the past five years or so. Facing possible world-ending threats could do that to you. And the last year alone had aged him considerably.  
  
The other waitress arrived with his beer and he sucked it down in big, thirsty gulps.  
  
The game was at the half so Steve could give them his full attention now. He fidgeted, peeling the label off his bottle, and continuing to scan the room.  
  
"Big tits at 12 o'clock!" he announced. "Her friend is looking our way. She's looking at YOU, Harris. Quick. Make eye contact."  
  
Curious despite himself, Xander ventured a quick glance at a nearby table. He sort of recognized the girl and gave her a brief nod and smile.  
  
"We gotta order them a round," Steve said excitedly. "Get the waitress back."  
  
"I'm gonna take a piss, then I'm going home," Mike interrupted. "I thought we were here to watch the game. But if I have to listen to Britton here yammer, I'd rather watch it in my La-Z-Boy."  
  
"Where's Charlotte tonight?" Jerry asked.  
  
"Baby shower. Look, I'll see you young studs at work on Monday. Don't get yourselves no social diseases. 'Night."  
  
Xander watched Mike make his way out of the bar and when he turned back, the girl from the other table was right at his elbow.  
  
"Hi. Remember me?" she asked, shyly.  
  
"You....Oh sure. Of course I.....Nope. Not a clue," he admitted. "Your face is familiar but..."  
  
"I get that a lot," she replied with a mild laugh. She held out her hand. "I'm Sophy. Remember? From Buffy's party last year. I'm her....well.....WAS her friend from work."  
  
"Yeah! Sure. I remember. Um.....how've you been?"  
  
She shrugged and sat down in the chair Mike had vacated. "All right. I don't work at the Doublemeat anymore, so that's good. I have a job at the morgue, cause, you know, I'm in beautician school and that's a really great way to practice. I do the hair and makeup and I've gotten quite a few compliments. People don't always notice my work, but it's really important, you know? I mean if it was done wrong you'd bet I'd get complaints."  
  
"I'm sure," Xander agreed. "If you made Uncle Fred look like Aunt Milicent for example...." he laughed. Sophy stared.  
  
"But I wouldn't do that," she said seriously. "Why would I want to do something like that?"  
  
No sense of humor. Check.  
  
"No of course not. That would be wrong."  
  
"Hey, can you introduce me to your friend?" Steve couldn't keep silent a second longer.  
  
"Sure. She's going with somebody, though." Sophy beckoned her friend and the Big-titted One sashayed over. Jerry gallantly vacated his seat for her and went to hunt up a new chair for himself.  
  
"This is Marlee," Sophy said, "And this is....I'm sorry I've forgotten your name."  
  
"Xander." He smiled politely at the girl, who scanned him up and down like a side of beef then dismissed him.  
  
"I'm Steve." The stocky construction worker held out his hand. "And you're....heavenly." Xander rolled his eyes as Steve took Marlee's hand in his own. She stared down at their joined hands as if a bug had just crawled across her skin, and pulled away from him.  
  
Sophy turned back to Xander. "So, what was it you do for a living again?"  
  
"Construction. I'm a foreman at the new high school project."  
  
"That's nice. I hope you're not using anything with asbestos cause, you know, that's really toxic."  
  
"No. No asbestos. No one uses that kind of insulation anymore."  
  
"Oh, well then, I hope you're not allergic to dust 'cause I bet there's all sorts of dust at a construction site. I'm allergic to dust. Also, pollens, dairy, and wheat."  
  
"Nope. Not allergic to dust. Good thing," Xander said.  
  
"My mother says I got my father's genes, 'cause everyone in his family is allergic to...oh, just about everything. We could never have a cat 'cause, you know, dander, and I'm afraid of dogs. This big dog bit me once. It left a scar. Wanna see? It's on my leg, here...."  
  
"Huh," Xander stared at the offered leg, then began to look around for Jerry, who was still not back with another chair.  
  
"That was a funny party at Buffy's house that night, wasn't it? It was sorta fun, but then, you know, it got kinda long. My mother was really mad when I got home, but I just told her it turned into a slumber party. She wanted to know if boys were there, but I said 'no'."  
  
"Really?" he feigned interest.  
  
"Yes. She said, 'Just call next time.' Does your mom say that to you, too? Oh wait. You live with that blond-haired girl, right? What was her name?"  
  
"Anya. And not so much, anymore. We broke up."  
  
"My brother broke up with his girlfriend, too. My mom says, he can't hold on to a girl cause he's a slacker like my dad, but I don't think that's true. My mom says.."  
  
"Will you......will you excuse me for a second. I have to check on our friend." Xander practically bolted from the table, leaving Steve hitting on the yawning Marlee, and Sophy talking to no one in particular.  
  
He found Jerry wedged in at the bar trying to order a drink.  
  
"Hey," Xander tapped him on the shoulder. "Get me another, too, willya?"  
  
He stood there, looking around, checking out the women, while Jerry tried in vain to get the bartender's attention. A perky redhead, chatting animatedly to her friend, caught his eye. 'What a cutie!' he thought, then suddenly realized it was because she reminded him of Willow and wondered what the hell THAT meant.  
  
Xander's eye continued to rove 'til it suddenly snagged on a pair of dark eyes gazing seductively back at him. He gulped and turned abruptly away. Sharp dresser, but the guy definitely wasn't his type!  
  
Jerry handed him a beer and leaned in to shout over the din, "You guys want me to take off? I don't want to mess up your action."  
  
"No. No action. That girl was somebody I met at a party once. Kinda flaky. I'm not interested. Let's let Steve entertain those girls."  
  
They stood for a moment, sipping their beers and looking for anyplace to sit in the now packed bar.  
  
A large, laughing group pushed past their standing spot and one of the girls in it accidentally knocked into Xander and spilled her drink on his arm.  
  
"I'm sorry!" she gasped, sponging at his shirtsleeve with a tiny little napkin.  
  
"It's okay," he answered. "No problem."  
  
She smiled. "Well, let me at least buy you a drink or something to make up for it."  
  
"Uh. That's.....You don't have to," he stammered.  
  
"No, really. I feel like such a klutz."  
  
"Tell you what," an idea occurred to Xander and he felt suddenly suave and clever. "Why don't you let me buy you a drink, instead, since your glass is kinda empty now. Then, if we can find someplace to sit, you can tell me about yourself."  
  
"Oh...." The girl managed to frown and smile at the same time. "I'm sorry." She gestured toward her group, which had merged with another large group at the back of the bar. "I'm with someone. That's so sweet, though. Thanks for the thought!" Again she smiled, apologetically, then wove her way through the crowd to catch up with her friends.  
  
"They're always 'already with someone'," Jerry said, wistfully, taking a long drink from his Coors, and gazing hopelessly at all the pretty girls. "Want to see if we can get in at one of the pool tables?"  
  
"Sure," Xander agreed.  
  
They found all the tables taken, unsurprisingly. After watching the other players knock the balls around for about twenty minutes, chatting about work and the other guys on the crew, both of them were really tired of standing.  
  
"This place is just too crowded. Want to go to the Bronze?" Jerry asked. "I hear the band tonight is supposed to be really good."  
  
Xander thought of all the time he'd spent there over the years; the crappy high school days of hitting on girls and failing miserably, and the good times with Buffy, Willow, Oz and even Cordy, then later, Anya. He didn't want to go there. It was a much younger crowd at the Bronze than this place and when he looked around it made him feel like a middle-aged perv scoping out the high school girls.  
  
"Naw. I think I've had about as much nightlife as I can take for one evening," he declined. "Sorry to crap out on you, but I think I'll go home. You should go see how Steve is faring. Who knows? You might like that Sophie. She's a sweet girl."  
  
"See ya tomorrow then," Jerry bid him goodbye. "And....remember to give my sister, Holly, a call. You two might hit it off."  
  
Xander nodded. "Sure thing."  
  
Driving home, he was grateful for the blessed silence of the car after the noisy bar. He didn't even turn on the radio. He thought about the evening and wondered if he should've just stayed at Buffy's and watched "Gladiator" again. Trouble was he just didn't fit in anywhere. He needed - wanted - guy pals, a nice girlfriend and a regular life, but it was way too late for that wasn't it?  
  
He felt like Spiderman, but without any of the cool superpowers. Instead, he just had the big, untellable secret life that barred him from ever really sharing himself with a 'normal' girl. He had seen too much, done too much, to be able to sweep it under the rug and have a casual date with someone. 'Cause sure-as-shootin' he'd like the girl, want to go out with her again, start getting closer, and be stopped cold when he shared the gory glory of the truth about demons.  
  
It was hard being the Slayer's right-hand.....well, let's face it, third-in- command. Sometimes he thought that isolation was the hardest part of the job, much harder than getting his ass regularly kicked by vamps and demons. But then, looking around that bar tonight, at all the people struggling to make a connection he thought that maybe loneliness was an inevitable part of the human condition.  
  
As he climbed the stairs to his apartment, Xander briefly indulged in a favorite fantasy. He would open the door and SHE would be there, the one he had been searching for. Wearing only a sheet, long, bed-tousled hair tumbling over her shoulders, she would rise to greet him.  
  
"What took you so long, sweetheart? I've been waiting." She would come to him and wrap her soft arms around him and murmur endearments in his ear. "Darling. Love." Then she would draw him, kiss by kiss, to the bedroom, help him remove his clothes and.  
  
The key turned in the lock. The door opened on the dark, empty apartment.  
  
He entered, tossed the keys on the table and his coat over a chair; kicked off his shoes; went to the fridge and stared at the vacancy within; grabbed an open can of Mountain Dew that had turned from soda to flat, sugary syrup; picked up the remote and turned on the TV; flopped on the couch and began scanning channels. Nothing on. Rummaged through his stack of videos and pulled out one with a faded cover and popped it into the VCR; thought again about getting a DVD player and a brand, spanking new copy of the movie which was beginning to play. It was more-or-less near the beginning where he'd been interrupted last time, so he didn't bother to rewind, but settled back on the couch with his feet propped on the coffee table and watched, lips moving along with the dialog.  
  
"Bring out your dead. Bring out your dead," one of the Pythons, Eric Idle?, called as he wheeled his cart.  
  
Xander chuckled at the exchange between the man with his grandpa slung over one shoulder and the deathcart guy. Soon he was quoting along with grandpa.. "I'm not quite dead yet. I'm getting better!"  
  
"I'm getting better."  
  
"I'm happy. Happ-eeeeee!"  
  
END 


	6. Dawn's Story

"Dawn's Story" by BonnieD  
  
(This installment of "Back in the Basement" could also stand alone. I'm not sure there's a theme for this particular chapter unless it's self- empowerment. It's just a day in the life of the Slayer's sister. This series branches off just prior to "First Date," and, although I may take some things from the real show as it progresses, I'm leaving others (Kennedy!).  
  
"Sure she LOOKS normal with those preppy clothes, but have you ever talked to her? Well, neither have I, but I can tell you she's weird. Did you hear about the first day of school and the screaming fit she had? Yeah. Right in Mr. Pender's class! Down on the floor! And don't even get me started on cheerleader try-outs!  
  
Plus, her sister is the weirdest of the weird. Runs in the family. Like, I'm sure I'd EVER bring a problem to that crazy bitch. I heard a rumor that she hits on any of the guys that go see her. Yeah. A real slut. They should fire her. It's not like she's doing any good at this school. There've been two suicides, four disappearances and dozens of fights since the year started."  
  
Dawn sat on the toilet seat, her eyes squeezed shut, lip bit between her teeth, and waited for it to be over. She toyed with the idea of presenting herself, storming out there and laying into those girls, but what would be the point. She was outnumbered and outgunned and nothing she could say would have any effect on their opinion of her - not that their opinion mattered in the least. She knew they were shallow and weak and unimportant, but knowing didn't take away the sting of their words.  
  
"AND she hangs with that goth wannabe, Kate or Kris...."  
  
"Kit," a new voice chimed in.  
  
"Yeah, whatever. God, what a strange pair they are."  
  
"It's true Dawn's a little off, but, Tanya, your despising her wouldn't have anything at all to do with the fact that your boyfriend's been flirting with her?" the unnamed voice continued. "Come on. Don't give me the Look. Everyone knows it."  
  
"I don't know what the hell you're talking about," Tanya clipped off her words as she snapped her purse shut.  
  
Dawn stifled a giggle and sent a mental cheer up for New Voice, 'You go, girl!'  
  
"I don't know," the girl said. "I heard from Zach that he's been asking around about her. Lots of questions...." she trailed off vaguely, and Tanya rose to the bait.  
  
"Brian would never be interested in a girl like that. I mean, look at me - then look at her. She's a beanpole! And no tits to speak of," Tanya spoke with the supreme confidence of a high school, bleach blond bombshell. "All rumors. He'd never give her a second glance," she continued airily as she led her gaggle of girls out the door.  
  
"Shows how much you know," Dawn muttered to herself, emerging from the stall and quickly washing her hands before heading for class. It was true that Brian was nice to her, but to tell the truth, she'd never thought of their conversations as flirting before now, especially since he mostly picked her brain about chemistry problems. It was gratifying to hear the rest of the student body had perceived his interest as more than academic.  
  
Brian. Hmm. He was hot. No doubt about that. But since she'd always considered him out of the realm of possibility it would take her awhile to wrap her mind around the idea of him as more than a casual friend. All right - time's up. She'd wrapped and the wrapping felt good. She could definitely get into the idea of Brian Neiderer being interested in her, Dawn Summers!  
  
Dawn floated through the rest of the day on a wave of hormone-fueled daydreams involving Brian confessing his huge secret crush on her. It certainly made her U.S. Government and FST classes more interesting.  
  
She dawdled at her locker after her last class, giving Brian ample opportunity to approach her if he was interested. It's not like there was any big hurry, anyway. Buffy would be conferring with Principal Wood in his office as she did every day now. Dawn rearranged her collection of locker magnets artistically, weeding out any remaining puppies or kitties that might have snuck in there in favor of hot rock and movie stars.  
  
"Hey girl, what's up? You waiting on me?" Kit's low, smoky voice took her by surprise and she started.  
  
"Jeez, don't sneak up like that!"  
  
"Little jumpy are we?"  
  
Dawn shrugged. "I'm just cleaning out my locker," she answered her friend's first question. "There was a lunch bag down in there which might explain the garbage smell we've been complaining about."  
  
"And here I thought it was Ryan-next-door," Kit laughed.  
  
"His locker's pretty rank, too, just a different kind of rank," Dawn replied, shutting the door of her locker with a final clang, shouldering her backpack and falling into step with Kit.  
  
"Did you study for the chem test tomorrow yet? 'Cause I'm not remotely ready for it and I thought maybe we could go over some of the stuff together - maybe at your house," Kit suggested.  
  
The mention of chemistry brought Dawn's thoughts immediately back to Brian. Maybe she could offer HIM a study date. At the same time, she had to fend off Kit's visit yet again. There was simply no way to explain their house full of Potentials. What could she say if she ever did invite a friend over, 'My sister and I run a boarding house'? It was best to stick to neutral territory.  
  
"Sure. I'd love a study buddy," she bumped Kit's arm affectionately. "But let's meet at the Espresso Pump. It's....quieter....than my house."  
  
She paused, then brought up her question. "Kit, do you think.... I mean, would it be weird....if we asked Brian Neiderer to come study with us? Do you think he would?"  
  
"What? THE Brian Neiderer?" Kit snorted. "Study with US? Are you nuts?"  
  
"Well, I don't know. He's always asking me questions and stuff. He might appreciate the help," Dawn explained.  
  
Kit stopped stock-still in the hallway and gazed at her open-mouthed. "Oh my God! You have a crush!!"  
  
"Do not. I just think he's an interesting guy is all."  
  
"Interesting. Right. What brought this on?"  
  
Dawn blushed and squirmed and wished she'd never brought him up. "Forget it. It was a stupid idea."  
  
"No. I want to hear more about this. Why Brian and why now all of a sudden?"  
  
"I think Buffy's probably waiting for me," Dawn began to walk again. "I'll meet you at 4:00 okay?"  
  
"Not so fast, girlie," Kit grabbed her arm. "'Fess up. Enquiring minds want to know."  
  
"It's just something I heard today. I mean, I always thought he was good- looking. Who wouldn't? But I never thought about him THAT way. Today I overheard Tanya and some of her minions talking about me and one of them said....she said...." Suddenly the whole bathroom conversation seemed like a sham. Tanya's friend had only been trying to piss her off. The chances of a Brian Neiderer actually being aware of Dawn as anything more than a brain with legs were astronomical.  
  
"She said what? Spit it out!"  
  
"Nothing. Never mind."  
  
"You are seriously pissing me off now!" Kit exploded. "Share!!!"  
  
Dawn was blushing harder than ever and wanted nothing more than to take back every word she'd uttered, but she knew that Kit could be a real terrier. When something caught her attention, she wouldn't let it go. Dawn caved with a sigh.  
  
"It's dumb. This girl said Brian was interested in me....that the whole school knew it. That he had been 'seen' flirting around with me. Funny, I don't have any recollection of that." Dawn tried on a flippant tone. "It's not like I believed her or anything. But I thought, you know, wouldn't it be funny to give people something to really talk about. Sure it'd be just a study date but it would piss Tanya off and that in itself would be worth it."  
  
Kit wisely played along with Dawn's line of bull. "Well, yeah. I can see that. Doesn't take much to piss off Queen Tanya anyhow. But, Dawn, it is possible, ya know, that the girl wasn't kidding, and even if she was....if you're really interested, you should go for it. God, a jock like Brian would be lucky if you gave him the time of day! You're a beautiful, confident, smart, cool and happenin' chick, right?! We both are! So, if you want to call Brian and invite him along 'just to study' he should be groveling and grateful!!!"  
  
Dawn laughed and immediately felt better. Kit was good at doing that, and Dawn reflected, not for the first time, that she was grateful they had been chased around the school by conjured spirit thingies since that's what it had taken to meet her new best friend.  
  
"Well, we'll see if I get my nerve up," she said. "Either way, I'll meet you at 4:00."  
  
She waved goodbye to Kit and went into Buffy's office to wait for her sister, who, as expected, was cloistered with the principal.  
  
********** Arriving home, Dawn felt more than ever like the mommy, as she picked up crap throughout the front hall and the downstairs; discarded socks and hair ties, cereal bowls, stakes, and empty chip bags. It did no good to call on the girls to pick up their own stuff. They were always far too busy 'training' except when they were stuffing their faces. Besides, no one would ever claim a single dirty plate or glass. The house must have a full complement of gremlins as well as Potentials.  
  
"Hey, Amanda," she greeted the 'Other Sunnydale Slayer', as she entered the kitchen. "Missed you in school today."  
  
"Yeah, I'll have to make up the work, but I didn't want to miss Willow's ward training today. I feel like I'm going to Hogwarts."  
  
"One thing I don't get," Dawn mused, as she rinsed a crusty bowl and set it in the sink. "How can so many girls' parents be cool with this? Surely there must be some that just refuse to believe and to let their kid be taken."  
  
"Mr. Giles is pretty darn persuasive," Amanda explained. "Maybe it's the high-class British thing he has going....." she paused. "Or maybe it's the fact that he brought Spike along as a teaching aide. I mean, my parents weren't very happy about the whole Chosen One, short-life- expectancy thing, but they both agreed that vampires and demons went a long way toward explaining life in Sunnydale. After all, who hasn't lost at least one friend or family member in some mysterious way!"  
  
Dawn nodded. "I'm off to study for a chemistry exam with Kit at 4:00. Wanna come with? You can do your makeup work and suck down coffee with us."  
  
"Sure. That'd be nice." Amanda started wiping down a counter, glowing with the confidence and acceptance that her new life had given her.  
  
Dawn threw open the kitchen door and ran smack into Spike, who had just risen from his daily sleep. They did a little confused shuffle back and forth, before he stood aside to let her pass.  
  
"Hey, Little Bit," he rumbled, offering a tentative smile.  
  
"Hey," she answered, coolly, then added, "I think the nickname's lost its meaning, since I'm now taller than you."  
  
"Are not."  
  
Am too."  
  
He looked into her eyes, which were level with his own, and shrugging, moved past her into the kitchen. Dawn turned and watched him head toward the fridge to search for a snack.  
  
"Buffy stayed after school to talk over stuff with Principal Wood," she said, waiting for his reaction. There was none.  
  
"I guess they're going down to the basement to poke around the seal some more."  
  
Still nothing.  
  
"Principal Wood is such a hottie, don't you think, Amanda?"  
  
The Potential looked up from her task. "Huh?"  
  
"If I was Buffy, I'd date him." Dawn thought she saw Spike stiffen a little at this, as he rummaged in the fridge for his blood, but she might have imagined it. She didn't know why she felt compelled to try to hurt her former protector and friend - unless it WAS because he was her former protector and friend.  
  
All the long, Buffy-less summer, he had been HER rock, HER anchor, HER confidante. But the moment Buffy returned he had disappeared like smoke. She neither saw nor heard from him unless she stopped by his crypt for a visit, during which he was usually quiet and distant. It all made sense later, but at the time it just hurt.  
  
Then, on that awful night when Willow went berserk, Xander had told her about what Spike tried to do to Buffy and the rest of her girlish idol- worship had vanished. For the first time Dawn understood that the stories he once told her of his murderous rampages were really real. She saw his evil now, soul or no soul, and cringed from it.  
  
She couldn't understand how Buffy didn't.  
  
The teen gazed a moment longer at Spike's unresponsive back, as he poured a mug of blood and set it in the microwave, then turned and went to catch up on her laundry and English Lit homework before she went to meet Kit.  
  
*********  
  
"Don't look up!" Kit hissed. "Just keep reading that paragraph. He's headed this way!"  
  
"Did you call him? I know you called him!" Dawn hissed back. "Why else would he just 'happen' to show up here? What did you tell him about me?"  
  
"Nothing! I swear I didn't call. It's just a coincidence."  
  
"What's going on?" Amanda demanded. "Who? Brian?" She craned her neck to look across the crowded cafe.  
  
"Stop staring!"  
  
"Dawn likes him?" Amanda persisted.  
  
"Yes. Stop staring."  
  
"You're kidding, right? He goes with Tanya. Always has, always will."  
  
"Things change," Kit replied.  
  
"He's like a sports god at this school. There's no way.....Uh, no offense, Dawn, but....."  
  
"None taken," Dawn answered dryly.  
  
"I mean. You're really pretty and all, but there's the whole class system thing and...."  
  
"Quit while you're ahead, Amanda." Kit skewered her with the Evil Eye.  
  
"Hey, guys," a husky baritone broke through the girlish chatter, as the sports god himself pushed through the crowd to their table. "Studying for the exam?" He spoke to them all, but his eyes were on Dawn, who began blushing furiously. She tried to will the blood from her cheeks and the adrenalin rush from her system without success.  
  
"Yeah. Should be a tough one." Kit spoke for Dawn, who was obviously tongue-tied. "Why don't you pull up a chair and we can all work on it."  
  
"Can't. I'm just picking up coffee on my way to work," he glanced at his watch. "For which I'm already late. Line's too long anyway, but I thought I'd stop by and say 'hi'. So....um....'hi'." He was suddenly, charmingly bashful and Dawn thought she felt her heart literally stop beating for a second, when his gray eyes settled on hers.  
  
"Where do you...um...work," she managed to stammer past the lump lodged in her throat.  
  
"My dad's hardware store. Thus the not worrying too much about being late." He smiled and Dawn thought she might combust.  
  
"Cool," she answered.  
  
"It's okay."  
  
Dawn racked her brain for another comment, anything to break the ice and make him stay a little longer. God this was awkward.  
  
"Well, I better get going." The beautiful Brian smiled again and nodded at them all and turned to leave.  
  
"If you want," Dawn blurted out and wondered where she was going with that. "I could, we could, I mean, if you need to study later.....or wanted to, you know, I could help with the......cause it's one of my better subjects." Please God just open the hellmouth right now and swallow me down!  
  
He turned back. "Sure, if you can spare the time."  
  
"Great." Her voice cracked on the word.  
  
"I close at 7:00, so we could meet at my house about...7:30?"  
  
Dawn cleared her throat. "Great!" she said, too loudly. "That'd be cool," she added more nonchalantly.  
  
"You know where I live?" Brian quirked an eyebrow. How cute was that? He could lift one eyebrow!  
  
"I-I think so. Lovell St., right?"  
  
"Yeah. Third house from the corner of Crane." Brian backed away a step, bumped into a chair almost knocking it over, then regained his balance with a blush of his own. "All right then. See you later." With that, he turned and left.  
  
Dawn let her forehead drop to the table. "Could I have been any more lame?!!! He must think I'm a total idiot!"  
  
"Get out!" Kit smacked her arm. "He was so into you. Tanya's on her way out, girlfriend. The Queen is going down."  
  
"So not," Dawn argued. "He just needs help to pass the chem test. That's all."  
  
Amanda sucked down the dregs of her smoothie with a resounding slurp. "I don't know. He looked pretty smitten to me."  
  
"Smitten?" Kit mouthed at Dawn.  
  
The former Key sat bolt upright, a look of horror spreading across her face. "Oh my God, I've got nothing to wear. I mean absolutely Nothing!"  
  
"Thought it was just studying," Kit teased.  
  
"Wear your red pullover. That's cute," Amanda added helpfully.  
  
"I have no new clothes. Everything I own he's seen me in," Dawn's voice rose in panic.  
  
"Borrow Buffy's."  
  
"She's like ten times smaller than I am! I have NO clothes," Dawn moaned. "No time to shop and no money to buy anything with."  
  
"For crisis' this beats the First all hollow," Amanda chirped.  
  
"The First what?" Kit asked.  
  
"Huh?" Dawn glossed over Amanda's slip. "Look, I'm sorry to bail on you guys, but...."  
  
"It's okay. Fashion emergency takes precedence over studying." Kit, who never wore anything but basic black, smirked at her lovesick friend. "Dawn, you look great in everything so don't go psycho, okay? He likes YOU not your clothes. Just chill and let whatever happens happen."  
  
"You're right. Of course, you're right," Dawn agreed, but she hopped off her chair anyway and headed home with Amanda in tow.  
  
*********** If the situation at the Espresso Pump had been awkward, trying to make conversation at Brian's house that evening was even worse. Dawn arrived ten minutes late so as not to appear too eager, dressed down in jeans and a white top which had taken her two hours and five changes of clothes to pick, and he led her into the dining room where books and papers were spread out on the table.  
  
"Nice house," Dawn said, looking around.  
  
"Uh, thanks." He gestured her to a seat. "So, how do you want to do this?"  
  
"What?!"  
  
"Review our old tests? Memorize tables from the textbook? What?"  
  
"Oh. I guess, this exam is going to be more information than lab work so, dive into the book?"  
  
"Great. Thanks for coming over, by the way. Between basketball and work I don't have enough time. I still have an English paper to write after we're done here! To tell you the truth, my grades are kinda slipping this semester."  
  
Dawn nodded, sympathetically. "I know what you mean. I don't have a job yet, but there's a lot of other....stuff...I'm dealing with at home that makes it hard to get schoolwork done."  
  
He didn't ask about her problems and they began to study the material, throwing questions back and forth, memorizing content. Within ten minutes the doorbell rang.  
  
"Just a second." Brian went to get the door and soon Dawn heard the familiar voice that had raked her over the coals that morning floating down the hall.  
  
"Hey, sweetie," it cooed. "Why'd you turn your cell off? I've been trying to call you for hours!" Tanya's voice was chocolate covered candy with a hard, petulant center that could chip a tooth.  
  
"I was at work. You know the number there." Brian sounded annoyed. "Besides, I couldn't have talked. We were swamped this evening."  
  
"You should tell your dad to get more help so you can work fewer hours and have more time for ...... me." Slurpy, smacky sounds punctuated Tanya's words. Dawn squirmed in embarrassment.  
  
Brian must have managed to extricate himself. He spoke, a little breathlessly, "Baby, I'm sorry. I know we haven't been together much lately, but if I don't get at least a C on this test tomorrow I may not pass Chemistry. Plus I have a shitload of other homework to do."  
  
"Fine then," she sighed loudly. "I'll make myself a sandwich and watch TV 'til you're done. Just don't keep me waiting too long."  
  
"No. I mean. I REALLY don't have time. I have an English paper, a few math problems, and I'm studying with Dawn Summers right now."  
  
"What?!"  
  
"Studying, Tanya. Ever heard of it?"  
  
"With that geek, Dawn Summers?"  
  
"Yeah. She gets the best grades in the class." He laughed shortly. "Maybe some of it will rub off on me."  
  
"Studying," the Queen repeated.  
  
"So I'll see you tomorrow. And I promise I'll make time to take you out somewhere."  
  
"Oh, no. I think not. I'm going to stay and help you with the 'studying'."  
  
"You don't even take Chemistry."  
  
The next second, Tanya Rousseau breezed into the room and granted Dawn an icy smile that threatened to freeze her to her chair.  
  
"Well HI there! Aren't you a sweetheart to help Bri with his homework?" She enthroned herself on one of the chairs and rested her elbows on the table, idly flipping the pages of one of the textbooks.  
  
"You really don't have to stay," Brian continued to protest as he followed her into the room. "It's going to be really boring....and you'll be kind of distracting....."  
  
"Don't mind me." She pulled a file from her purse and began working on her nails.  
  
Frowning, Brian sat back down and opened his book.  
  
"Listen," Dawn began, "if this is going to be a problem, I can go...."  
  
"No." Brian snapped, then spoke again more gently. "I mean, 'no'. There's no problem." He changed the subject, "What's the symbol for lead?"  
  
They worked on the chemistry for an agonizing half hour under Tanya's hawk- eyed scrutiny until Dawn couldn't stand the pressure any more.  
  
"Darn," she said, glancing at her watch. "I forgot I promised Buffy I'd.....pick up some stuff at the market. I really need to be going home now."  
  
"So soon?" Tanya protested. "I thought you were all about helping my honey with his schoolwork?"  
  
Dawn managed a weak smile. "You'll do fine tomorrow, Brian. Don't worry."  
  
"I'm worried," he answered. "This stuff just doesn't stick with me."  
  
Quickly gathering her book and papers, Dawn stuffed them into her pack and shouldered it. She wanted to toss off a final quip, something clever and cutting to let Tanya know she hadn't won the field, that Dawn Summers was her own person and not to be trifled with, but nothing clever came to her, so she simply turned and left.  
  
Brian managed to walk Dawn to the door without Tanya dogging him. "I'm sorry about this," he said. "I love Tanya, but she can be a little..."  
  
'Bitchy', 'cruel', 'evil' and 'hateful' were a few words that came to Dawn's mind.  
  
"Possessive." Brian said. "She's not as....strong....as people think, you know," he added quietly. "Not like you."  
  
"Yeah, she seems kinda needy," Dawn replied, noncommittally and hopefully loud enough for Tanya to overhear. "Well, see you tomorrow."  
  
********  
  
'What was THAT all about?' Dawn wondered as she walked home, a stake on the ready in one hand. At the coffee shop she had been almost prepared to believe Kit that Brian seemed interested in her as more than a study date, but he certainly appeared to still be under the spell of Tanya the Magnificent. Rumors of his infatuation with Dawn had been grossly exaggerated!  
  
'Fine. Whatever.' she told herself. 'Easy come, easy go.' It had been a nice fantasy for a day, but she wasn't going to let disappointment color her mood. She'd be damned if she would! Feeling empowered, Dawn stalked the shortcut through the graveyard, eyes scanning right, left and occasionally behind her for vamps or other assorted weirdos.  
  
'I am strong. I am my own woman. I am Dawn the invincible,' she mentally chanted. As if on cue to test her beliefs, a newly risen vampire with white hair and a purple flowered dress came at her from behind the nearest crypt.  
  
'Someone turned their grandmother?! Ew.' The girl didn't have time for a moment of pity as the feeble looking old woman launched through the air like a flying linebacker and tackled her to the ground. Dawn didn't hesitate but pushed up with all her strength, wedged her stake in the space between them and aimed it straight into the creature's heart as Buffy had taught her. Gravity did the rest and the vampire basically impaled herself on the sharp wooden stick. Dawn was left covered in a shower of dust, heart pounding and breath ragged from the rush of adrenalin, feeling alive in every fiber of her being. What a rush!!  
  
She scrambled up, dusting her clothes off and retrieving her lost backpack. She found herself shaking but also grinning from ear to ear as she continued her walk home. Take that, self-involved Potentials! Take that, high school beauty queens and handsome jocks! Take that, pretentious principals and annoying big sisters! Dawn Summers can handle herself. Yes!  
  
Keeping alert and watchful the rest of the way home, she thought about her kill, realizing she could never tell about it without Buffy going berserk, and decided it didn't matter anyway. When the showdown with the First's minions, whatever form they might take, came Dawn would be ready to join the fight.  
  
End 


End file.
